


Yellow

by ExploringTheNight



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Loneliness, M/M, Multiple Pov, Slow Build, Summer, Summer AU, Unrequited Love, harumako, makoharu - Freeform, philosopher!haru, possible sourin, reigisa - Freeform, rich!Haru, suggested depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExploringTheNight/pseuds/ExploringTheNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka Nanase hasn't been the same since his best friend, Makoto Tachibana broke their promise to stay in touch when he moved countries. However, three years later when Makoto suddenly announces his return to Iwatobi, Haru wants to be a little bit more than friends with him this time.</p><p>Just a casual MakoHaru fic set in a universe where Haru is a sarcastic little shit, where Rin is tired of Haru being a sarcastic little shit, and where Makoto's eyes might just be more complex than the universe itself.</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Quiet

**Haru**

_“So you promise we’ll still be friends?” I asked sheepishly at what appeared to be the night sky, its black silk covering us like a blanket where the stars were sequins, sewn into the fabric. Of course my best friend was beside me, lying face up on the cold, hard tiles of my flat roof like I was, staring at the same view. But I refused to actually look at his face – because soon – he’ll be gone._

_“I promise.” He replied, with a voice so quiet and hidden that I actually had to think twice if he said it or if my mind was playing tricks on me. Makoto was just as upset about moving countries as I was since we had been best friends for as long as we both could remember. One could say that we were inseparable and on rare occasions, we could read each other’s thoughts like open books. “But…” he hesitated. His arm reached out into thin air like he was almost trying to grab the stars, I guess he just wanted something to hold on to. “I’m going to miss home.”_

_This time I did glance in his direction, where he was close enough for me to see his emerald eyes, glassy looking as tears welled up in his waterlines. The sight of Makoto crying wasn’t exactly rare, but when I saw him cry that night, I almost felt my own eyes sting._

_Almost._

_“Well.” I sighed. “It’s not like you’ll be gone forever.” Makoto glanced over at me, some kind of light lit up in his eyes as a sign of hope. “You can always come back, right?”_

_“I-I guess so.” He spoke in a brittle voice as he retracted his arm and laid it back on is stomach. “But what if you’re not here when I get back?”_

_“I will be.” I almost blurted. I cleared my throat in order to try to calm down and I looked back up at the stars before I spoke again, “I won’t leave you, Makoto. You’re my best friend, remember?”_

_I didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smiling. He sniffled a couple of times and I faintly saw him wipe his eyes before he brought himself together to speak again. “Promise?”_

_“Promise.”_

***

Yeah, fuck him.

Three years had passed since that night when we were 15, it was the last official time I spoke to Makoto before he moved countries because of his father’s job transfer and had he made any effort to call since then? Nope. Had he messaged me since then? Absolutely not. Had he tried at all to contact to me over the past few years whether it be via messenger pigeon or a 19 page manuscript on how unbelievably sorry he is that he had made no effort to talk to me despite the fact that he promised to? Fuck no. And finally, to this day, do I still think about it all the time? Fuck yes.

The thing is with friendship is that it is a strange concept. My late grandmother told me that it was like a jigsaw, where you find other people that piece together to work in harmony and when all of the pieces had been found, it forms a picture for all of you to be proud of. She also told me that the pieces of the jigsaw may not fit together at first, or maybe they are still part of the picture but in a different place that where you least expected them to be.  
I guess when you’re seven years old you believe anything that your elders say because those pearls of wisdom could be important later in life – but now – she couldn’t be more wrong. Let’s say that the jigsaw pieces you’re connected to are the ones you feel closest with and more comfortable around. Well three years ago the most important piece in my jigsaw vanished and now there’s an obvious gap in my picture, almost as if it’s incomplete without it…

Yeah, I get oddly philosophical when I’m bored. About a week has passed since I finished school for the summer, and honestly, the entire week has been spent with me, myself, and my Pokémon. It turns out that being bored leads me to finding random crap in my room, and by random crap I mean my Gameboy Advance so I guess I’m the real winner here.

I fumble around my bed sheets so I can find my phone to check the time, 21:59 it says and as per usual, there are no texts, but round about now is when Mom usually Skypes me to make sure I haven’t burned the house down or something because somehow, by some miracle, she thinks I can manage being home alone for the summer while her and Dad go backpacking for their 20th wedding anniversary. My friend Rin always goes on about how he doesn’t get why my parents trust me with it but oddly enough I'm not as reckless as he is, I actually want to stay alive, thanks.

_***_

I spend another an hour or so on Pokémon before I decide to go to sleep, but my phone makes a ‘ping’ sound for the first time in forever. When I pick up the silver iPhone (thank you, rich parents) I notice the little Skype icon and open up the message assuming it’s from mom. Only when I see the photo of mom and dad by the beach at the bottom of my screen, I realise it’s not from then, but someone else.  
And then I see a face I could recognise from a mile away: green eyes, sandy hair, a broad, puppy dog smile. For the first time in three years I hear from Makoto Tachibana.

I read over his name again. In bold black letters it clearly says, Makoto Tachibana but I rub my eyes to confirm if I was just seeing things because why would he suddenly decide to appear in my life again in a flash? (Or a ping in this case). I double check - no – triple check his name to see if it’s actually him, still alive, still existing in this huge planet with his own life and his own circle, and I marvel at how weird it is that he’s suddenly noticed my own existence.

The actual message isn’t anything spectacular, just a casual ‘ _hello?_ ’ but those five letters are more than I’ve got from him over the past three years and honestly, that’s more than enough to light some kind of fire in my soul.  
Sure, I shouldn’t be overanalysing his message, but what could possibly be so important that Makoto decided to stop ignoring me? I type out ‘ _hello_ ’ in response and hit the send button.

I begin tapping my leg impatiently as I wait for a reply. The small ellipsis icon at the side of his name bounces up and down, almost as if it’s mocking me with how lively it appears. And then it stops. I check the message box to see if anything came through but there’s nothing but empty space. I linger over Makoto’s name on the screen, it says that he’s still online, so has he gone back to ignoring me? Did he just message me out of pity and then remembered how pathetic I am? I lock my phone and throw back onto the bed when I hear another ‘ping’. When I glance over at my screen and I see that little Skype icon again I grab my phone like it was a million dollar cheque and I frantically open the message because I’m absolutely _not_ obsessed at all at this point.

The message reads: ‘ _You’re not mad at me, are you?_ ’ I mean, I _should_ be mad because he’s ignored me for three years, but at the same time, I’m just not. I don’t know if it’s because part of me has been waiting for this day, or because of how lonely my life has been lately, but I guess if there’s anyone I can’t stay angry at, it’s Makoto Tachibana.

‘ _nah_ ’ is the response I decide to make as I prepare myself to finally have a conversation with him.

 **Makoto Tachibana:** Okay good, I don’t blame you if you are.  
I mean, it’s okay if you hate me or something.

 **Haruka Nanase:** i don’t hate u

 **Makoto Tachibana:** That’s good to hear.  
Anyway, my dad’s job is being transferred again.

 **Haruka Nanase:** oh really?

 **Makoto Tachibana:** Yeah. He said that we’re moving back to Iwatobi.

For a second it feels like the wind has been knocked out of my body, like I’ve suddenly forgot to breathe, because what? For the first time in a long time my soul feels like it’s actually on fire, with roaring flames and such an intense heat that won’t burn out anytime soon.

 **Makoto Tachibana** : Haru?

I almost jump out of my bed when my phone makes that fucking 'ping' sound again (I should probably mute the damn thing) and I remember that I’ve been staring at a screen for… a while.

I should probably say something now.

 **Haruka Nanase:** yeah I’m here  
but that’s great

 **Makoto Tachibana:** You really think so?

 **Haruka Nanase** : y wouldn’t i  
do you not want to come back

 **Makoto Tachibana:** No it’s not that, it’s the opposite actually haha. But I was wondering if we could be friends again.  
If that’s alright with you.  
It’s fine if you don’t want to, I understand.

Okay, what? First I complain about how bored I am this summer and then my childhood best friend suddenly contacts me saying that he’s moving back and wants to be my friend again? Either God is playing a cruel trick on me or he’s finally forgiven me for that time when I broke Rin’s TV because I lost at Mario Kart.

 **Haruka Nanase:** I’d like that

 **Makoto Tachibana:** Really?

 **Haruka Nanase:** no I’m still mad at u and I will seek revenge  
you are now my arch enemy makoto tachibana  
until we meet again

(At least I find myself funny).

 **Makoto Tachibana:** You just ruined the moment.

 **Haruka Nanase:** lol  
anyway when are u coming back

 **Makoto Tachibana:** A week tomorrow.

 **Haruka Nanase:** aw

 **Makoto Tachibana:** What?

 **Haruka Nanase:** come home sooner

 **Makoto Tachibana:** I wish I could  
I’ve missed you Haru

Well if that doesn’t make my eyes start to sting I don’t know what else would. I don’t know why I’ve suddenly turned into Rin or something because I never cry but I guess it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters right now, apart from the fact that Makoto is coming home.

 **Haruka Nanase:** I’ve missed you too


	2. Miracle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Rin and Makoto.

Miracles: Some people believe in them, some people don’t, and some people are undecided, yet they still believe in _something_ \- it’s as simple as that really. However, if someone were to ask me on _my_ opinion on miracles, I would have chosen the second option, that they can’t possibly exist, that they are simply too good to be true, and – more importantly – they’re unjust. Do people honestly believe that some form of greater power only allows miracles to happen to some and not others? Bullshit.

Of course I’ve not always had a strong belief against miracles. When I was younger I believed in them, but once you grow up and realise how cruel the world is, the harrowing realisation that it’s impossible for them to exist is a slap in the face to say the least.

Sure, comparing the realisation of my crippling loneliness to the cruelty of the world is a slight exaggeration, but being lonely is about the same as the whole world being against you, especially when you are fully aware that other people have it a lot worse than you do, which just ends up making you feel even more isolated because if you try to reach out to someone, you’ll just be an open target, shot down by someone else with how their problems are much more valid. And that’s exactly how I feel: always complaining to myself about how I have no one in my life when I actually have a supporting family as well as good friends. The thing is though, my parents aren’t exactly great at the whole advice thing (I would know because I take after them) and although I do consider my friends as _friends_ , what they consider me as is a question mark. Take Rin for example, he’s someone I can easily talk to and I’d quite happily be willing to spend time with him, but it’s not hard to imagine how much it hurts when I consider him my best friend but the feelings aren’t mutual.

It’s not like I was always this gloomy, believe it or not. My late Grandmother told me that no one was born to be alone, and to this day I still believe her because I understand completely where she was coming from. From as long as I could remember, I always had a wide-eyed, sandy hair, amusingly cheerful boy by my side who, just like miracles, was just too good to be true. For instance, I’ve never considered myself as much of a talker, and I know I’m not the only one who thinks that about myself: whether it be my mother having to explain to my teachers that just because I don’t talk much in class doesn’t mean I’m struggling; or my classmates moaning about how I never talk and how I’m boring when I’m shoved next to them in a classroom; or perhaps my friends mentioned it, commenting on how I was the ‘quiet one’ of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t disagree with anyone who describes me as quiet, it’s about as true as the earth being round, or how _Coldplay_ are one of the best bands in all of humankind (okay, maybe that last one is an opinion, but a very logical opinion, if I do say so myself).  
However, despite the fact that I was and still am a pretty reserved person, Makoto never brought it up around me. To this day I’m still unsure as to how he did it, but in some odd way he could practically read my thoughts and speak for the both of us, which has lead us into getting in and out of a lot of situations. The weird thing though, is that I didn’t know how he did it yet I could do the same thing to him. Subtle changes in his language, both verbal and physical guided me into learning his whole thought system, and I could help him the same way he helped me. Until he left.

When a past era is brought up in your mind, most of the time you only remember the best parts, and it’s exactly like that with Makoto. Did we ever argue when we were friends? Probably. Were there times when we were absolutely sick of one another? Most likely. Had we ever needed our own personal space after being with each other for so long? There was no doubt about it - only that I can’t actually remember those times because whenever the name, ‘Makoto Tachibana’ comes into my head, two feelings are attached to it: happiness and hurt. Happiness because the cold, winter nights we’d spend at each other’s houses drinking hot chocolate and playing video games, or humid summer nights spent on the roof, talking about how small we are and how big the universe is are still some of my fondest memories, but the unsettling feeling of how he seemingly disappeared, pretended we had never met after he moved were just as painful as someone ripping my heart out with their bare hands.

When the person I thought I could trust the most suddenly decides to leave my life, it’s safe to say that trust issues are formed as well as countless nights awake wondering where I went wrong and how happier he is without me. I guess things like that lead me to being even more reserved than ever, too afraid to lose the few people I had left, causing me to distance myself even more because if I’m only a burden, a waste of space, then maybe I’m better off on my own.

For three years I kept my distance, secluding myself in the dark and dismal abyss that is my bedroom as I watched everyone else around me live, instead of merely exist. And if that wasn’t painful enough, seeing everyone have a better time without me, as if my whole existence meant nothing to them made me feel as though I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, where there is no light, and no one to hear me scream and plea for help.

Somehow, in some way, things started to change.

I was ready to cave in, ready to accept the fact that I was stuck at the bottom of the sea forever, the grey waters hiding me from the light, until the final ray of sun finally broke through. Sure, Makoto’s presence didn’t help me reach the surface, didn’t magically solve all of my problems like some kind of shitty love story. Actually, I was sceptical about trusting the light to bring me to the surface in case it was actually just there to lure me in and plummet me deeper than ever before. But after spending a week talking to Makoto (plus gaining a thousand apologies from him) I soon discovered that the light wasn’t in fact fake, but very much real.

It had gotten to the point where if I wasn’t talking to Makoto, I was thinking about him, and if I wasn’t thinking about Makoto, I was reminiscing with myself about the great times we had growing up (which was technically thinking about him.) Of course we hadn’t been able to talk past the messaging stage because of the time difference and whatever but I can’t imagine he’s changed _that_ much. It’s the little things that remind me that Makoto is still _Makoto,_ such as how he’d find the silliest things funny, how he’d use the same vocabulary, and how he would type so properly and refuse to make any kind of grammatical errors.

Anyway, it’s little things like that which remind me that Makoto Tachibana is alive, existing in this strange world, and that he has completely changed my opinion on miracles because _he_ is a living, breathing, _miracle_.

***

“I still don’t get why you’re dragging me with you.” Rin sighs as he continues to scroll through his phone, lying a little too comfortably on one of the khaki coloured couches, ruining the orange blanket I draped over it because khaki is a disgusting colour that should be hidden from the world.

“Rin, you asked to come with me.” I deadpan, searching around the living room for my phone. I peer under the brown coffee table in front of the couch Rin’s lying on, and then towards the other sofa (with another orange blanket, of course). Overall the house matches the whole holiday villa feel, which means that there are enough warm colours and geometric patterns to drive a man insane.

“Well damn, Haru, I didn’t expect it to be so fucking early in the morning!” He snaps back at me. Rin has a raucous voice, loud and rough, and every word that leaves his mouth bites as his he is there to make a statement, to prove something to you. However, Rin _is_ right because it turns out that because of the time difference, Makoto’s plane lands at half seven _in the morning_ so we had to get up at 6am, which is a horrible time that nobody should have to put themselves through. The hazy blue sky makes me want to wretch and be the chirp of the birds outside which should sound melodic sounds like sirens instead, piercing through my eardrums and filling me with a pang of regret and a huge need to go back to sleep.

“Well it’s not like I want to be up at six in the morning either!” I groan, attempting to mimic Rin’s snappy tone (key word: attempting).

“It was your idea to surprise the guy at the airport!”

“And it was your idea to come with me!” It’s not as though Rin and I don’t get along, it’s just that we bicker over the smallest of things so it appears to other people that we hate each other.

“Well-.”  Rin stutters, trying to find a comeback because he sees everything as a competition and has no intention of losing against me. “Well you’re the one that’s taking so fucking long!” He almost bursts, looking proud of himself with his devilish grin.

“That’s because I can’t find my God damn phone!” I yell a little too loud, getting all too frustrated about an inanimate object.

“You mean the one that you’re holding?” Rin quirks, ready to pounce on me like some kind of lion when I realise that he made me look stupid. I slowly look down to my right hand to see my phone gripped tightly like it was blatantly obvious.  Rin sniggers to himself, his hand covering his mouth and his cherry hair covering his profile.

“Shut up.” I say as I practically march out the front door (mainly because I don’t want Rin to capture my shame) and Rin follows, that stupid smirk still plastered to his face. If Rin wasn’t driving me to the airport, I would have locked him in the house.

***

Iwatobi is a unique place to say the least. Most people live in villas since the town itself is built around the coast so there’s always some kind of beach nearby. I’ve always thought that Iwatobi could be taken out of a light-hearted romance film with its pink sunsets and soft waves that gently roll into the silken sand alongside the seagulls cawing while they swoop around the cloudless sky and dance in the light breeze. But on the other hand, Iwatobi could be taken out of a post-apocalyptic horror film with the rough, dry sand surrounding the roads and the brown, rocky mountains covered by some kind of mesh to stop them toppling over your car and crushing you like a damn beetle. It also takes an hour to drive to the nearest airport with only a few gas stations that somehow bend reality and seem so out of place, so unrealistically run-down, yet so real that you can’t help to feel as though you’ve survived the apocalypse or that you’re on the edge of military grounds. I guess that’s the feeling I get now as I sit in Rin’s car, travelling down the motorway, only seeing a handful of other cars along the way. The fact that it is around half six in the morning doesn’t help since the off blue sky and cool, yet hot sun blazes down on us, creating the image that we’ve been travelling forever as the car radio occasionally fuzzes and silences due to the lack of signal. Not to mention the overall feeling of haziness where it’s so early and so quiet that you feel guilty for being awake because you’re disturbing nature.

“This radio is pissing me off.” Rin grumbles to seemingly himself and he snarls at the built in device, his sharp red eyes glaring at it before focusing on the road again. If I had to describe Rin’s demeanour in one word, it would definitely be cool. For instance, if his long, red hair isn’t falling in his face like he was taken from the cover of a fashion magazine, it was pushed out of his face by a pair of designer sunglasses. On rare occasions, he would wear metal jewellery to compliment his purposely ripped clothes, like a single ring or a collection of weird necklaces with thin, silver chains and weird little trinkets like a shark tooth tied at the bottom; and on even rarer occasions, I’d see him with actual black nail polish neatly covering his clean fingernails. Perhaps I’m jealous of Rin’s individual style and self-confidence, because if I could pull off his somewhat rock star image, I would obviously do it in a heartbeat – but for now – I’m sticking with skinny jeans and a t-shirt.

“Aren’t we nearly there?” I sigh, gazing out the window as I go back into my weird little post-apocalyptic roleplay. In all honesty, he’s not wrong though, the radio _is_ incredibly annoying.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Haru? We still have another half hour.” He snaps quickly, literally tutting at me as he carries on driving. “Honestly, what’s wrong with this thing?”

“If it’s annoying you _that_ much then just turn it off.”

“Well then we’ll be sitting in silence.” Rin remarks, another proud grin creeping on his face like he’d just made a clever reference to something. The thing is with Rin is that although he looks cool and collected on the outside, he’s actually just a giant nerd.

***

By the time we reach the airport and park up, it’s at least 7am and although the sky has slowly started to turn blue and the sun has enhanced the whole scene, it’s still too damn early (especially when I’ve not slept because I was thinking about Makoto too much).

One of the problems with Makoto coming back is that it’s been so long since I’ve spoken to him in person is that I’ve actually forgotten _how_ to speak to him, which I kind of terrifying when I think about it because it goes to show how time – a concept that isn’t actually real – can change yourself and others, creating images and memories of people as some kind of replacement for their lack of presence. It really gets me thinking because what if Makoto has completely changed? Or what if he expects me to do all of the talking? Because if that’s the case then I may as well hop back in Rin’s car and go home because I don’t actually know _how_ to talk to people and establish relationships, never mind rebuilding a _broken_ relationship. I feel my heart knock against my chest, and not in a good way as I look up at the cloudless – no – empty sky. Should I really have to feel this nervous?

“Come on, _bro slice.”_ Rin laughs as he locks his car and starts to make his way into the building. Maybe he can see that I’m out of my comfort zone so he’s making weird jokes to try and calm me down. Maybe it actually works because Rin’s laugh kind of sounds melodic and I can’t help but feel the corners of my mouth turn up at his comment. Either way it still doesn’t stop the unnerving feeling of butterflies fluttering around my ribcage and stomach.

“Alright, _dude alert_.” I call back jokingly, jogging until I finally reach him as we enter the modern airport together with its large, wall covering windows reflecting the sunlight and the clean white tiles so polished that I can almost see my reflection. We navigate our way through the swarms of people coming and going: tanned families on their way home from their holiday; businessmen shouting their business talk down their business phones; and newlywed couples in their own little bubbles. About every type of person imaginable were walking on the same tiles we were, but none of them are Makoto. At least not yet anyway.

The airport’s area where we would meet Makoto is surrounded by an array of people excitedly awaiting the return of their friends/family/lovers et cetera. There are some cab drivers nearby, bored out of their minds as the unenthusiastically hold up the names of their clients, the sound of footsteps and chatter filling the atmosphere like it was the air itself. Unfortunately, Rin and I didn’t get the memo that we had to arrive three hours early so we’re quite the distance away from the gate Makoto comes out of, meaning that the herd of people in front of us are blocking our view like a giant brick wall. I balance on my tiptoes and stretch my neck to see if I can spot messy, sandy hair, but all I see are faces I cannot recognise.

“Well someone’s excited.” Rin says, a bright, genuine smile breaking his usual angry appearance.

“Not excited.” I utter, the strain from stretching my neck slightly ruining my voice (it still doesn’t stop me from doing it though). “Just impatient.”

“Yeah, okay.” He snickers, joining me in looking like an absolute idiot by getting on his tip toes as well, only that Rin’s ever so slightly taller than me so he’s going to be more successful at ‘Makoto spotting’. “Don’t try and act all aloof, Haru.”

Unfortunately for me, Rin is absolutely right because of course I’m not impatient, I’ve waited three years for this and – quite frankly – I’d wait three more if I have to. However, although I am pretty excited for Makoto’s grand return, anxiety is absolutely taking over…

***

What feels like hours of me standing on the edge of a black hole pass before the hoard of people start to finally clear out and to no avail, I haven’t seen the one person I could recognise from miles away. It gets to the point where I start imagining worst case scenario that this is all a cruel joke and Makoto is really at home laughing at my misery. I also begin checking my phone religiously to see if I have something, _anything_ from him, but I’m just greeted with my lock-screen.

“He’ll be here soon.” Rin speaks, albeit quietly. But still, it’s enough to make me jump out of my own skin because of how I’ve been in my own world of despair for the past ten minutes or so.

“Y-yeah…” For some reason, that’s all I manage to stutter, internally slapping myself at my lack of speech.

It’s at that moment when I finally notice someone I may know.

It’s the porcelain skin and the soft, wavy hair that make me recognise Mrs. Tachibana as she steps into the room in awe, her soul filling with nostalgia as she gently lays her hands on two small shoulders in front of her. Of course I couldn’t forget about Ren and Ran, Makoto’s younger siblings, who aren’t so young anymore. Ran looks around the room with her bright green eyes, her headphones a little too big for her as they begin to slip off her head and Ren shyly peers around, his hands glued in his jeans pockets as he sheepishly buries his face in his hoodie. Behind them follows a well-built man with neat, short hair showing grey strands who wraps his muscular arms around his wife and whispers joyfully in her ear, something along the lines of “We’re home.”

But it’s what’s behind him, _who’s_ behind him that makes time freeze. Messy hair and tanned skin suddenly stop the earth’s orbit and a boy who was once so small and so skinny is now taller and more muscular than his father. His subtle smile and welcoming green eyes greet the room like it is part of his own home as he cheerfully speaks to his family. Whatever negative image I built of him over the last three years disappears in an instant because he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still as calm as ever, he still flashes his perfect smile and widens his emerald eyes whenever he’s remotely surprised or happy, he’s still _him_. For the first time in three years, I finally see Makoto Tachibana.

“Makoto!” Rin calls out as he begins weaving his way through the crowd. Without thinking, I follow, also calling his name out and _damn_ does it feel good, saying his name out loud knowing that he’s finally going to respond.

After making our way through the crowd to the point where the Tachibana’s are close enough for them to notice us, Makoto sees Rin first, his eyes glistening with happiness and his smile brighter than ever and – almost in slow motion – his gaze averts to myself, his eyes slightly widening as his expression turns to shock more than anything else. In the split second I see his mouth begin to resemble that of a smile I find myself sprinting towards him, attacking the poor guy by wrapping my arms around his torso. I hear an “Umph!” sound leave his mouth before it is turned into giggles, as he returns the hug, his face buried in my hair. When I finally loosen my hug (emphasis on the word finally) I say the first words I’ve said to him in years, “Welcome home, Makoto.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to anyone who reads this!!
> 
> Oh yeah, about the Coldplay thing, I imagine Haru being a huge Coldplay fan because a lot of songs kinda remind me of him??


	3. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions and hints of depression, though very mild.

Maybe Rin says something, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe people stare, maybe they don’t. Maybe the world stops, maybe times stops, maybe it doesn’t.

Nothing else matters right now. Nothing apart from a pair of droopy eyes, greener and brighter than palm leaves in July; hair in which resembles fresh sand on the beach, soft to look at and soft to touch; cheeks so pink that you can’t help but think the first scoop of strawberry ice cream; and a smile so bright that it puts the actual sun to shame. Makoto is so warm that he is the first day of summer.

“You came to pick me up?” He asks, voice eager with surprise and curiosity that’s pleasant enough to listen to for hours.

“No.” I reply, sarcastically. “Me and Rin wanted to go plane watching.” Makoto frowns at me. “Thought we needed to branch out on our hobbies.”

“ _Haru_.” Makoto stresses. He gives me a look that can only be described as disappointment and he frees his wrist from my grasp (I didn’t realise I was grabbing his wrists) so he can use his hand to cover up his soft laugh. I feel my lips form a grin.

“Honestly, he’s been a pain.” A disembodied voice chimes in, popping our metaphorical bubble. Makoto and I snap our heads to where the voice was coming from so quickly that we could have broken our necks, only to find Rin smiling fondly at the both of us. When Rin isn’t permanently scowling (which is hardly ever), he actually looks quite sweet.

“Shut up.” I mutter, averting my gaze from Rin, meeting eye contact with Makoto’s mom. While Rin greets Makoto, I walk over to the Tachibanas, earning a welcoming smile from Mrs. Tachibana.

“Haruka, is that you?” Makoto’s mom greets, holding out her thin arms. Her hugs is airy and quick, but sincere nonetheless. “How’ve you been doing?” She asks, voice high pitched and motherly.

“Good.” I reply, though I don’t have time to say much more before a pair of tornados choose me as their next target.

“HARU!” Ren and Ran both shout, Ran tugging at the end of my shirt and Ren clinging to my shoulders. They babble words unfathomable to me, before Makoto’s Dad comes along, his grey sweater and silver glasses making him look incredibly put together for someone who just came off a five hour flight.

“Don’t scare the poor guy.” He laughs, and the twins unhand me. “You’ve grown up a lot, Haruka.” He speaks seriously, despite his award winning smile. He hold his hand out for me to shake, to which I reluctantly agree with. I don’t like shaking hands with other people because more often than not they comment on how I have _girl_ hands. “Wow, you’ve really taken after your mother.” Makoto’s dad says, loosening his grip. Point proven.

“Haru, are you ready to go?” Rin calls (saves).

“Yeah.” I call back, about to turn around but then I remember that I haven’t actually _asked_ if Makoto’s allowed to come over. “Can Makoto come with us?” I ask politely, ready to be rejected because what type of person shows up at an airport unannounced, asking to take their son away when they just moved countries?

“Of course he can!” Makoto’s Mom practically sing-songs. She looks really happy, a little too happy if I’m being honest. Weird.

“Thank you.” I simply reply, saying my goodbyes and heading back towards Rin and Makoto. I distantly hear the twins protesting at how they want to come before they are whisked away by the crowd.

***  
When we’re in the car, I ask Makoto how he’s getting home. It turns out that Rin already agreed to drop him off at his Grandma’s later since the shipment for their furniture doesn’t arrive until tomorrow so they can’t stay at the new house. Fair enough, I guess.

What isn’t fair on the other hand is the unnecessarily hot temperature of June. I try reaching for my bag below the car seat only to realise that I was rushing so much earlier on, I forgot to bring one, meaning that I have no water, meaning that I’m going to die.

“So, Makoto.” Rin perks up about ten minutes into to ride home, his eyes still focused on the road. “Are you gonna tell us why you’ve been ignoring us for three years?” His voice grows aggressive and he speaks quickly out of impatience.

It takes a while for Makoto to reply. When I look at the overhead mirror I see him in the back seat fiddling with his t shirt and looking down at seemingly nothing. “You don’t have to talk about it yet.” I console, causing him to look up in bewilderment.

“No way!” Rin breaks out, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. “You left for three years, we deserve an explanation!”

“I don’t think now’s the best time, sorry.” Makoto quavers.

“If you’re so sorry then-.”

“Rin!” I pressure.

“What?!”

I lean in closer to Rin and speak quietly enough for only us to hear. “Look at him.”

Rin obeys and looks at Makoto for a split second before focusing on the road again. “He looks uncomfortable.” He speaks lowly.

“He’s not ready yet.”

 “You’re right.” Rin sighs. He grits his teeth and aims his apology at Makoto. “Sorry.” I remain eye contact with him. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.” Better.

“It’s fine.” Makoto almost whispers. “I’ll explain soon.” And just like that, silence.

***

Around an hour of following blue road signs and the beating sun along with the odd drabble of small talk passes, and we finally approach sandstone walls and gravelly roads. Rin navigates us through the uphill winding roads and bumps until we reach my street. As usual, most of the villas here look the same: white painted exterior walls, orange tiled rooves, and built in verandas with archways. The only real difference are the shape of the outdoor swimming pools. Some are circular, some are peanut shaped, and – like mine – some are patrician. Throw in a few palm trees and fuchsia flower bushes draping over walls and you have my street.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit!” Makoto gasps, staring out the window intently.

“Must be nostalgic for you.” Rin comments, steering his car so it comes face to face with the black, iron, gates. Out of habit I climb out of the car and unlock them, allowing Rin to enter my driveway. I find them pretty useless if I’m being honest, because someone could quite easily see what’s in my house and could climb over the gate with no problem. If I didn’t live in such a nice neighbourhood, I would be surprised that I haven’t been robbed by now.

I don’t take a second to care about closing the gate because the sun isn’t just shining, it’s attacking. Making a beeline towards the nearest defence I strip off my t shirt, shoes, and jeans (thank God I’m wearing swim trunks underneath) and I dive in the cold, welcoming water. If there’s anything that’s going to help me survive the summer, it’s going to be this very pool because the cool residue is clinging onto my skin and protecting me. When I run out of breath, I rise to the surface, pretty content with myself.

“Haru!” Rin calls out, completely unfazed. “I’m borrowing one of your swim suits so I’m gonna need your key.” He decides.

“Jeans pocket.”

“Thanks!” He shouts, picking up my jeans and rooting for my keys. When he finds them he simply heads towards my front door.

I’m about to go back underwater when I remember Makoto’s with me, and then I remember that for the first time in three years, it’s just the two of us.

“I should’ve brought my own swim suit.” He sighs, making his way to the pool. He walks over to the deep end and takes his shoes off, sitting at the edge and dipping his legs in the water, keeping his shorts dry.  
Of course I have no idea what to say to him, and of course I’m kind of internally panicking, yet I still swim over to where Makoto is sat, and I prop myself out of the pool so I’m next to him. Out of habit I flick the wet hair out of my face, not knowing that I may or may not have just splashed Makoto.

“Hey!” He giggles, dipping his hand in the pool to splash me back.

“Ah, sorry.” I say, averting my gaze from him and looking at the grey stone behind me.

“It’s…fine.” And more awkward silence.

I’m beating myself for letting the conversation die down so quickly, for failing in knocking down the invisible wall cutting between us. Normally I don’t care about the silence. Normally I like it. But this time, I want anything but the quiet. I look back at the pool and start kicking my legs, making tiny ripples in the water. And then I kick water at Makoto.

“Stop it!” He laughs, using his feet to splash more water at me.

“Make me.” I remark, trying to block out Makoto’s attacks. I dip my hand to the surface of the water and curl it, positioning it carefully and then squeezing it, causing some water to shoot him directly in the face. I try not to laugh at my success.

Makoto freezes for a moment. A droplet of water drips from his fringe and hides his expression. He’s looking down at the pool, and I’m kind of scared since his clenched fists are broad shoulders are a threat when your body type is that of an eight year old girl. I faintly hear him snicker to himself, before feeling a hand push me by the small of my back into the water.

When I finally resurface, the little shit’s laughing hysterically, his eyes tearing up, and his hands clutching his stomach. I crack up myself.

“Hey, Makoto.” I say as seriously as possible.

“What?” He manages to reply through his fits of laughter.

“If I’m going down…” I swim closer to him and grab his ankles. “You’re going down with me.”

“Haru wait-!” He cries out before meeting his fate with a giant _splash._ As soon as his head reaches the surface, he gives me a death stare and I would be pretty terrified if it wasn’t for him bursting out into laughter and splashing me back.

Sure, Makoto and I are eighteen and nineteen year olds, but does that stop us from getting into a splash fight? Absolutely not.

***

**Rin**

It’s been a while since I’ve seen Haru like this, happy I mean. He thinks I haven’t noticed: noticed how his skin has gradually become paler; noticed how his cheekbones stick out more prominently than usual and how his t-shirts hang looser off his shoulders; but – more importantly – he doesn’t think I’ve noticed his empty eyes.

To say the least, Haru is a fucking mess, and his room corresponds with that perfectly. Dusty piles of philosophy books are thrown at the bottom of his wardrobe, a collection of empty water bottles gather on his bedside table, clothes are either thrown on the light wooden floor or the unmade bed, and his curtains are always shut. Of course his room hasn’t always been like this. Most of the time it was clean, spotless even, and I doubt his parents had anything to do with that.

I don’t believe Makoto is the cause of Haru’s despair, his depression even, he just heightened it, hence the warzone that is his bedroom. Haru’s gotten worse over the past three years. He would talk about his interests less, he would reject invites, and he would be in his own head more often than usual (which is a lot, trust me). That part I do believe Makoto is the cause of because why would you want to talk about your interests if you have nobody to talk about them with, why would you want to hang out with friends when your best friend left you, and why would you want to contribute in class, in your friendship group when one of the most important people in your life has vanished? Sousuke doesn’t understand why Haru is the way he is, he thinks Haru’s strange, that he’s never going to be happy if he doesn’t do anything with his life. But me? I understand completely.  
Hypothetically, if my childhood best friend was to leave me and never talk to me again, my room would probably be a bigger mess than Haru’s. However, it wouldn’t be the type of mess Haru has created: my room wouldn’t be unmade beds and dusty piles of books, it would be walls with holes from hitting them too hard, it would be shattered mirrors, knocked over bins, broken chairs, and ripped out pages from books. If my best friend left me without an explanation, without a hint of hatred towards me beforehand, I would destroy everything, and then cry at 3am in the middle of the broken pieces.

Of course it isn’t safe to say Haru _hasn’t_ destroyed his belongings over the past three years, it’s just a very unlikely possibility. But he _has_ absolutely curled up under his blankets in the middle of the night, eyes stinging from being awake too long, tears sliding down his face like tiny rivers, and maybe he would occasionally let soft, weak sobs escape his lips.

All because of Makoto Tachibana.

I don’t hate Makoto, but I sure as hell haven’t forgiven him.

Yet at the same time, I haven’t forgiven myself for not being able to help Haru in the first place.

I’ve tried not to think about it much today, since Haru is happy. He’s finally smiling, for God’s sake. His ocean eyes glint, and the colour is returning to his cheeks. All because of Makoto Tachibana.

**Haru**

“What’s taking Rin so long?” Makoto asks, his shirt sticking to his torso and his fringe plastered to his forehead. He is using the pool edge to lean on, his arm propped on the light stone. It’s only now I notice how muscular he’s gotten. His arms are definitely strong to say the least, and his abs are definitely on show through his shirt and they are definitely kind of hot, actually. Is that weird? Calling your friend’s body hot?

“Not sure.” I say, averting my gaze from Makoto’s abs, because staring that long cannot be healthy -or normal for that matter. Instead I look up at the veranda, to see if Rin’s coming down the ‘lizard steps’ into the poolside. (Yeah, Makoto and I decided to call them lizard steps when we were five because more often than not, there’s a lizard around that area).

Speaking of the devil, a cluster of red hair bobs its way through the veranda and down the first set of stairs. He turns so he’s facing towards us and he comes down the lizard steps, making his way to the pool.

“You didn’t push Makoto in there, did you?” He asks me, jumping in the pool himself and joining us in the deep end.

“He pushed me first.”

“If he jumped of a bridge would you do it as well?” He taunts.

“I don’t need Makoto to do it first.” I sigh, earning a frown from the both of them. “Besides, what was taking you so long?”

“You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” His voice grows stern. I merely shrug in response because no, I am not in fact kidding you, Rin. “Do you know how long it took me to find a swimsuit?” Oh.

_Oh._

“Don’t thank me but I sorted out the hell hole that is your bedroom.” Well if he doesn’t want me to thank him then that’s fine by me. I didn’t ask him to be my maid anyway.

“Why were you cleaning my room?”

“Because I think I teared up when I saw it, I feel sorry for your room and it’s not even real!”

“Well that’s not my fault you have a lot of feelings for inanimate objects.”

“It’s your fault for making me want to cry!”

“You always want to cry.”

“Both of you!” Makoto yells, the award winning Mom expression lying strongly on his face. “This is the worst argument I’ve ever heard in my life!” He cries out, his cheeks going slightly pink and his voice growing high pitched.

“Sorry Mom.” Rin smirks.

***

Most of the day is spent outside drinking whatever we can find in the fridge (which is mainly just water and Diet Coke at this point) and Rin catching Makoto up on what he’s missed. I’ve not really contributed in the conversations, didn’t feel the need to really, so if Makoto and Rin were talking about Nagisa and Rei or something for too long then I would just swim a few laps of the pool or find some other way to keep myself occupied.

***

Although my fingers are still pruned like raisins and my hair smells of chlorine, the content and peaceful atmosphere vibes through the peach sky and cotton candy clouds the same as the gentle evening breeze fluttering through the palm leaves.

“Hey, Haru.” Rin calls out, posed on the lounger next to me with his sun-kissed skin and long eyelashes, looking like some kind of doll.

“What?” I almost yawn. I feel my eyes growing heavy and my movements feeling slower from the amount of swimming I’ve done today.

“What’re you doing for you birthday?”

“Nothing really.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing really’?”

“I said what I said.”

“But it’s your nineteenth!” He cries out, as if turning nineteen is a big deal.

“And?”

“You _have_ to do something.” He stresses.

“I don’t _have_ to anything.” I (try to) stress back.

“But you barely did anything for your eighteenth!” He begins to shout. Yeah, for some reason Rin thinks that if he’s shouting the loudest, he has the best opinion. “Makoto!” He yells, and Makoto nearly falls off his chair.

“Yes!” He perks, his eyes blown up.

“What did you do for your birthday?”

“I…er….I went out for dinner with some friends.” He stutters, scratching the back of his head. I suddenly get the feeling he’s lying.

“Wow, boring.” He tuts, annoyed that he failed to prove a point.

“I’m sorry, Rin. But you’re the only one who actually partied on your birthday.” I sigh.

“Fine.” He hisses, accepting defeat. Fuck yeah, 1-0 Haru. “Fine!” he shouts, looking all too eager, and all too excited. “We’re gonna have a race!” He declares. A glint flashes in his fiery eyes.

“Effort.” I sigh, because really? Does everything have to be a competition with this guy?

“I don’t care, Haru! I’ve got an idea!” He practically jumps out of his chair and towers over mine, blocking the sunlight. His hands are on his hips and his devilish smile is bigger than ever.

“Oh, well go on.” I sarcastically reply.

“Five laps in the pool. If I win, we’re doing something. If you win, you don’t have to.”

Huh, I’m actually intrigued.

“Makoto, you’ll be the judge, right?” Rin asks (declares).

“Erm, sure?” He almost squeaks, which I didn’t think was possible for someone 6ft tall.

“Fantastic! Haru, prepare to get wet!”

“Please don’t say that to me ever again.” Hesitantly, I get up and go to the deep end of the pool and shuffle to the left side since Rin has already claimed the right.

“Makoto, shout ‘go’ whenever you’re ready!” Rin beams, taking quite the professional diving stance. Fucking athlete major. I try to mimic him: feet on the end and hands gripping the edge, though at this point I’ve been swimming so much today that I could very well collapse and flop in the pool.

Makoto walks towards the shallow end and sits on the top step. “Okay, go!” He shouts, and we immediately dive in.

The pool is small enough for me to finish a lap before needing to reach the surface and actually start swimming properly, but for the remaining four laps I have do the best front crawl I can, which isn’t actually that bad considering I once beat the captain of the swim team in high school (and I wasn’t even part of the swim team).

All natural talents aside, the fact that I was already pretty tired and Rin was already pretty hyped means that my chances of winning are slim, so by the time I finish my last lap it’s really no surprise that Rin had finished before me.

“HA!” He shouts. “I won!”

“Oh, you don’t say.” I sigh, standing at the shallow end and flicking my now wet hair away from my face. Rin triumphantly climbs out the pool and sits on the edge, his arms crossed and sporting his proud smirk for the least professional race in all of mankind.

“That means you’re doing something for your birthday in six days.” He announces.

“What are we doing then?” I avert my eyes from Rin only to find Makoto on the edge of the pool holding his hand out to help me up. Surprised, I look up to see his head tilted and his the corners of his lips turned up. I decide to take his hand.

“Hmm, haven’t decided yet. But I’m gonna use your shower and then I’m dropping Makoto off.” He changes the subject and starts to walk inside. For some reason, I’m slightly saddened by the last part of the sentence, and by the looks of things, so is Makoto.

“We have to go already?” Makoto asks sheepishly.

“Yeah, I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow.” He cocks his head around and for once, senses the tone. “But if it’s okay by your parents and Haru, you can stay over if you want.”

Makoto’s face lightens up. “Are you okay with that?” He asks me.

Yes. Absolutely. Certainly. It is positively okay with me. Affirmative.

“Sure.” I shrug and I follow Rin inside.

***

“Okay…yeah…thank you…yes please…” Makoto’s pacing around the living room, droplets of water falling against the tiled floor wherever he goes. I hear the shower faucet stop from the other room, Rin must be finished. “Thanks mom…love you, bye!” Makoto hangs up and looks at me happily. “She said it’s fine!” He exclaims, and now there’s some kind of burning sensation in my stomach. Strange.

“Okay cool, but what about your clothes?”

“She said she’ll drop off spares.”

“Doesn’t it take like half an hour to get here?”

“Yeah but she said it’s okay.” Fair enough, I guess. The door handle to the living room creaks open and out comes Rin, even with damp hair and pink cheeks from the shower he still looks like the coolest person I know.

“It’s a shame I can’t stay over.” He sighs. “Are you allowed though?” He asks Makoto.

“Yeah, but thanks for offering me a lift home.” He replies politely.

“Don’t worry about it…By the way, Haru.”

“What.”

“Next time I’m staying over. You don’t have a say in it.”

“Figures.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to go.” He waves off, sliding the glass living room door open into the veranda.

“Drive safely!” Makoto calls out, as Rin walks out.

The very second the door closes, the very instant I hear it _clack_ closed, I realise that I am alone with Makoto. And – once again - I have no idea what to say.

Apparently, it takes exactly five seconds for an awkward silence to arise, and it feels like it’s been five minutes in my brain, so I’m fucked for the night.

“You know, Haru.” Makoto begins. “You don’t have to feel forced to speak.”

Well that might be the first time anyone’s ever said that. Makoto’s eyes burn into my soul, somehow, with such honesty and sincerity, and I can’t help but to stare back, because those two green pools might just be the most breath-taking things I’ve ever seen. I want to say thank you, and I want to smile back and return the favour someday. Yet, for some reason, I can’t. For some reason, I don’t know how.

“Whatever.” I reply, and avert my gaze immediately. Makoto giggles.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower. Can you pick up my stuff if Mom gets here before I’m finished?”

“Sure.” I say. Makoto gives me a quick nod before heading out of the living room towards the shower.

The sound of the bathroom door closes in the background, along with the shower faucet turning on. It’s still hard to process the fact that it’s Makoto causing the sounds, and not someone else, which is weird, considering that no one else could possibly be the cause of them at this moment in time. I also look at the puddle of water he’s caused near the front door. The water is, of course very much real (and very much slippery) yet, everything feels so unreal.

I walk into the kitchen and I grab some cleaning supplies from the cabinet under the sink and then back into the living room, the noise of the shower growing louder as I come closer to the hallway door. Maybe everything feels so unreal because it’s hard to think that Makoto is actually alive.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew fully well that Makoto wasn’t _dead_. But he may as well have been. He neglected his old social media accounts and whenever I tried to search him up, looking for some sign that he was alright, nothing would show up. Perhaps he wanted to disappear, to erase his existence. Maybe that was one of the reasons why I never messaged him first, because if he never used his accounts, then he would never read his messages. Or at least that was the excuse I tried to make myself believe, and not how I’m unable to deal with confrontation or anything.

As I dry the floor, I swear to God my stomach makes a noise in which resembles that of a blue whale. Come to think of it, Makoto and I have been surviving off fizzy drinks and ice cream all day, and considering he’s a lot bigger than I am, he must be hungry too.

I decide to pace around the kitchen for another ten minutes since my clothes are also pretty damp and I honestly have no effort to use the shower in the guest room. I faintly hear a car pull up outside – and - assuming it’s Makoto’s mom, I walk to the gate and meet her.

“Haruka, how are you?” She happily asks, handing me a rucksack with Makoto’s things.

“I’m alright.” I reply.

“Good, good. Are your parents not home?”

“They’ve gone backpacking for the summer.”

“So you’re on your own?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure you’re okay by yourself…of course you’re all grown up now but…” Her voice fades away. She looks at me worriedly so I smile back.

“I’m okay.” I say. “I know how to cook for myself and clean, and my parents give me money whenever I need it.”

She lets out a sigh of relief. “Haruka you really have all grown up.”

“Not really.” I mumble.

“You really have, I wish Makoto could cook! You’d have to teach him someday.” She giggles. Huh, interesting. Maybe I _should_ teach Makoto to cook, it’s an excuse to hang out with him more and there won’t be much awkward silence if I’m too busy trying to save him from setting the house ablaze.  “Anyway, I’d love it I you came round when we sort out the new house and everything.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” And I really mean it. Mrs. Tachibana smiles in response and after saying her goodbye, she gets back in the car and drives away.

I make sure to lock the gate when she’s gone, as well as the front door when I get to the house. I turn around and Makoto’s leaning against the doorway, holding his towel around his waist. He pushes his fringe out of his hair, and smiles when I look at him. “Is that my stuff?” He gestures towards my bag.

“Yeah.” I throw it to him and he carefully unzips it. While he’s fiddling with his bag I check the cupboards and the fridge for ingredients because I may or may not have set an internal goal to get Makoto cooking. As soon as I spot the mackerel, I immediately throw the packet on the counter because mackerel is absolutely the best invention in all of humanity. I also grab a few other ingredients while I’m at it, enough to make a salad on the side, at least.

“Erm...Haru?” Makoto nervously calls out.

“What?” I don’t turn around. Instead I order the ingredients and make sure I have enough of everything.

“My mom forgot to bring pants…I mean, she remembered underwear and everything…it’s just…” his voice trails off.

“I don’t care.” I simply reply, turning round. Makoto’s sat on the barstool wearing this two toned orange and yellow t-shirt paired with a pair of black boxers. For some reason, I can’t help but think how big his shirt would be on myself and how damn comfy it looks. “Well at least they’re not tighty-whities.” I gesture towards his pants.

“Good point.” He chuckles. “Anyway…” He stares sceptically at the ingredients. “What are you doing?”

“Your mom told me you can’t cook.”

“She did?” He asks (admits disappointingly).

“She did.” I repeat. “Which is why you’re going to help me prepare this.”

“A-are you sure? Because I’ll probably end up breaking something.”

“The only thing standing between you and your dreams is reluctance.” I quote. “Carroll Bryant.”

“Are you saying that my dream is to cook mackerel?” He questions, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Everyone’s dream should be to cook mackerel.” I argue. “Now come over here and pursue your dream.”

Makoto rolls his eyes and gets up, walking over to the stove and looking out of place to say the least. “Soo…what do you want me to do first?”

“Wash your hands.”

“But I just took a shower!”

“I couldn’t care less.”

“Fiinee.” He whines, turning the sink faucet and washing his hands. When he’s done, I do the same, the cold water soaking my hands. “What are we making anyway?”

“Grilled mackerel with chilli and watercress salad.” I state, drying my hands on the nearest tea towel.

“That sounds…difficult.” He says, eyeing up the ingredients.

“It takes around twenty minutes – and trust me - it’s not difficult.”

“Right…” Makoto sighs in disbelief. “So, what do you want me to do first?”

“Preheat the grill.” I say, pointing towards it. Makoto obeys and simply flicks the power switch.

“Well done.” I say, sarcastically. “Now…” I add, crouching down so I can look through the cupboard where mom keeps the seasoning. “We need the ground coriander and the crushed black peppercorns.”

“Do we need to…ground the coriander and…crush the peppercorns ourselves?” He sheepishly asks. Clearly he has no idea what he’s doing.

“If you want.” I reply, finding what I’m looking for. “Or you could just get them in jars.” I hold up the seasonings and Makoto looks at them like I’d just performed magic. “Catch.” I throw the coriander to him. He almost drops it.

“Basically just grind the jar until it fills a teaspoon.” I instruct, grinding the black peppercorns into mine. I empty the spoon into a glass bowl. I’m a lot quicker than Makoto, and a lot tidier for that matter since half the jar has spilled on the usually pristine counter.

“Oh shoot, sorry.” He whispers more to himself than anyone.

“It’s fine, you’ve done well.” I try to reassure. Makoto whips his head towards me, his eyebrows raised and his eyes widening. He then tilts his head and smiles. “Now just empty it into the bowl like I did.” I command. Makoto’s hand can’t seem to stay still, causing the teaspoon to shake as well. I place my hand over his and it stiffens. They’re pretty soft and warm, actually. “Take your time.” That came out softer than I imagined, but it seems to be working because he empties the spoon without spilling anything.

“I did it.” He gasps to himself, a slight blush appearing in the corner of his cheeks.

“You did.” I repeat. “Now for the zest.” I take a lemon and an orange from the fruit bowl.

“How do you zest?” He asks, actual interesting springing in his voice.

“The same way you grate cheese.” Silence. “You do know how to grate cheese, right?”

“What-yes! Yes, I do know.”

“Okay…good.” I open one of the overhead cabinets and I take the grater. “I’ll go first.” The main reason I’m going first is because there’s a slight chance that Makoto doesn’t know how to grate something so I’ll teach him before he embarrasses himself. I take the orange and I slowly slide it across the grater, the zest falling in the middle. Makoto watches intensely, his eyes fixated on the way my hand moves. “That should be enough.” I say mostly to myself, so I hand Makoto the grater and gather the orange zest to put in the bowl. “Your turn.” I command, handing Makoto a lemon.

“Right.” He says confidently, copying my movements and placing the zest in the bowl when I tell him to. “If this turns out well, you should teach me how to cook more stuff.” He suggests, grin plastered onto face.

It’s only a subtle suggestion, made to benefit Makoto more than anyone else. Yet it somehow makes me want to smile, somehow makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter. “Yeah.” I utter myself to say.

“So what’s next, Chef Haru?” He teases, using his hand to cover his mouth as he giggles. If it was Rin who said that, I would have probably slapped him. Hell, if anyone else apart from Makoto said that, I would have slapped them.

“Shut up.” I mutter, looking away from him because if he finds out that I’m smiling over him being such a dork, he wouldn’t stop. “I’m going to dice the chilli and then I want you to slice the onion.” I explain, earning a nod of agreement from him. I take the chilli and cut it in half since there’s only two of us, and I quickly dice it.

“Woah.” Makoto gasps. “You’re amazing.” Maybe it’s the sincerity in his voice, maybe it’s the sparkle in his eyes, or maybe it’s just me being tired but I feel my cheeks heat up.

“It’s nothing. Anyway do you want me to help you slice the onion?”

“Do you not mind?”

“No.” I hand Makoto the knife and I place the onion on the chopping board. I cut it in half so he doesn’t have to. “Remember, onions have layers.” I tell him while peeling the skin.

“Like in Shrek?”

“Whatever works for you.” I deadpan.

“So how do I cut it?” He asks, holding the knife up, nearly taking my eye out. I cautiously step back from him and I gently move the knife so it’s – you know – not pointing at my face.

“Just as carefully as you can.” I shrug, and Makoto nods. He furrows his eyebrows in concentration and his tongue pokes out the corner of his lips as he slices the onion. While he’s doing that, I start cutting the skin off one of the mackerel fillets.

 “I think I’m done?” He says, and I peer over to the chopping board. Looks fine to me.

“Not bad, now you can segment the oranges for me.” I nod towards the two oranges and he begins to peel. Thank God he knows how to do that, at least. I finish cutting the skin off the fourth mackerel fillet, enjoying the comfortable silence between us. I place the fillets inside the grill.

“What should I do now?” Makoto asks, the orange segments laying in his palms.

“Hold onto them for a second.” I command, grabbing a handful of watercress and spreading it evenly between our plates. “Scatter them on top of this.” I push the plates towards him, and Makoto simply obeys. I spread the chilli and the onions on top as well.

“Now what?”

“Now, we wait.”

“Oh-okay.” He agrees. We both lean back on the counters, standing next to each other. “Hey, Haru.” He says faintly.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when we used to lie on the roof?”

How could I forget? “I do.”

“We should go up there soon.” He stares at the ceiling and a fond smile appears on his face.

“Tonight?” I yawn.

“Maybe not tonight” He sees that I’m tired. “But soon.”

I’ve hardly been on the roof since Makoto left. Whenever I tried to go up, the stars spelled out his name and the wind whistled his voice. Even if I was only there for five minutes, the image of sad, green eyes would replay in my head like a video and the sound of Makoto’s brittle voice when he told me he was moving sent greater chills down my spine than the cold tile I lied on ever could. If Makoto wasn’t with me, listening to the same music as I was and talking about the universe we shared, lying on the roof was pointless.

“Yeah.” I say. “Soon.”

The grill cuts the conversation as it beeps, signalling that the mackerel is ready. I walk over to it, taking a spatula from the cutlery drawer in the process and I place the fillets on the plates.

“It smells delicious!” He beams, walking over to his plate and picking it up.

“True…” I agree. “But it’s not finished yet.”

“It isn’t?” He puts the plate back down.

I gesture towards the bowl. “We still need to sprinkle this stuff on top of the mackerel.”

“Oh yeah.” He remembers. He stares at the bowl for a while and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but closes it again.

“Do you want to do it?” I suggest. He looks at me, tilts his head and smiles.

“Okay.” He chirps happily. I tell him to sprinkle half the ingredients on my plate and half on his, to which he obeys but they aren’t exactly even. I don’t really care at this point, because of how he looks so comfortable and so _at home._ I mentally remind myself to invite him round more often.

“ _Now_ we’re done.” I state, taking my plate and going into the living room towards the couch. Makoto takes his plate and follows, sitting next to me. Sometimes I wonder how it’s physically possible to watch TV when it’s shoved in the corner of the room, right next to the glass door, where there’s no curtains because apparently we don’t need those.

“Mmh!” Makoto moans, holding his fork in his mouth. He takes it out and allows himself to chew for a while before swallowing and looking at me with an expression that can only be described as awe. “This is amazing!” He gasps, radiant smile brighter than the sky outside, despite it being 9pm. I cut a piece of mackerel and stab parts of the salad, shoving it in my mouth and chewing.

“Not bad.” I say. Sure, it’s not the best thing I’ve made, but it’s pretty good.

“Right?!” He beams, looking all too proud of himself. “I’m gonna send a picture to mom!” He decides, taking his phone from his back pocket and opening the camera.

By fate I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I take it out to see a _Skype_ call from mom and I swipe right to answer it. The screen loads for a few seconds before I see mom’s tanned face, wide smile and her huge sunglasses close to the camera. “Harukaa!” She sings, gaining Makoto’s attention.

“Hey.” I smile. “How are you?” By the looks of things she’s outside somewhere, but I can’t see Dad anywhere.

“I’m fantastic, honey. How are you?”

“Alright.” I shrug. “I have a friend with me.” I tilt the phone so Makoto’s in shot.

“Oh! Hi Mrs Nanase.” He chirps, his polite smile plastered into his face by habit.

“Is that you Tachibanana?” (Don’t ask). “Well haven’t you grown?! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been okay thank you.” He replies politely. “It’s good to be back, though.”

“It’s good to have you back.” She smiles. A lot of people say that the only thing I inherit from mom are my features. Like me, she has deep blue eyes which slightly slant up at the ends as well as jet black hair, but unfortunately I’ve also got her girly jawline and dainty bone structure. Mix that with a feminine name and you get a mildly annoyed eighteen year old _boy_.  
Our personalities, on the other hand, couldn’t be more far apart. She’d talk to random people on the street with a heart-warming smile and a loud laugh, whereas I would hide behind trees and cross the road if I saw anyone I was acquaintances with in public. “Anyway, my little pumpkins.”

“Mom, _please._ ” I feel a shiver go up my spine at the nickname.

“Don’t be such a grump, Haru.” She tuts, followed by her impish grin. “I won’t keep you boys too long, just wanted to check up on you both.”

“We’re fine.” I comment.                            

“Good, ‘am glad to know you’re both alright…Anyway I’ll talk to you soon, Haruka.”

“Yeah.”

“Love you, byeee!” She chirps, ending the call.

I take a huff of breath, before returning to my meal.

“Your mom hasn’t changed a bit.” Makoto cuts the silence.

“If anything she’s gotten worse. Last year she bought three space hoppers for Christmas so she, dad, and I could race.” I sigh. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I’m not making that up. Makoto buys it nonetheless though, his genuine laugh begging me to finish the story. “Of course, the race didn’t actually happen…” I trail off. “Dad ‘accidentally’ threw out one of them, ten minutes later I popped one out of sheer coincidence, and mom somehow lost hers…which I didn’t think was physically possible since they’re fucking space hoppers.” Makoto continues laughing, and it’s pleasant to listen to, almost like he’s encouraging me to tell more stories. So I do.

***

One plate of mackerel and a 30 minute long shower later, I’m lying on my freshly made bed (thank you, Rin) in a navy blue _Ghost Stories_ tee and my boxers. Makoto is looking through my videogames, since I’m kind enough to let him decide on what we’re playing. I have a PS4 with about three games that I’ve only half-assed played, along with a WiiU with at least 30 games - old and new - which I’ve tried to complete at least once. Rin and Sousuke always argue over whether PlayStation or Xbox is better, and then there’s me, who still plays _Super Mario_ and _Animal Crossing_ to this day.

“Have you played _Pokémon Go_ yet?” Makoto casually asks, reading the back of the box for what appears to be _Super Smash Bros_.

“I’ve installed it and caught a starter…but that’s it.” I truthfully reply. It’s only when I realized that _Pokémon Go_ requires you to actually go outside and walk where I stopped playing it, which explains why I only have a weak-ass Squirtle in my inventory.

“Yeah, so have I…is your Squirtle any good then?”

“How did you know I caught a Squirtle?”

“Because you’re Haru.”

Makoto’s comment warms up something inside me, his genuine and down to earth complex seeping into my own skin.

“What about you, then?” I ask, annoyed that he’s able to nonchalantly read my mind.

“You can probably guess that, right?”

“Don’t tell me…” The words disappear into the stuffy air before they reach Makoto. “Bulbasaur?”

Makoto turns around so he’s facing me, and does his head-tilt smile. “Yeah.”

When we were five years old, Makoto and I played _Pokémon_ together for the first time and after I chose Squirtle on my game, he chose Bulbasaur on his. When I asked why he picked that over a Charmander, he told me, “Fire and water are enemies, and I don’t want our Pokémon to fight! I want us to get along, Haru!” Since then, I’d always choose water type as my starter and he’d always choose grass.

I marvel for a second at how Makoto still chooses grass type over anything else, because of that moment when we were five. When Makoto lived in a different country, when he had a different circle of friends, maybe even a girlfriend or boyfriend, he still clung onto something, something involving me. The warmness that seeped into my skin now spreads across my body, finding its way into my veins and the air in my lungs.

I decide that the best route of response isn’t melting on the inside and giving him some sappy speech (though it might be too late for the first part) so I settle for insulting him, because it is absolutely his fault for making me feel like this in the first place.

“You’re an idiot.”

Makoto giggles. “Do you want to play it?”

“Now?”

“If you want…I could get changed.” He notices me sigh. “Or we could go tomorrow.”

“I’d prefer that.” I say, while rubbing my eyes, my bedroom light getting all too bright and actually giving me a slight headache.

“Because you’re tired?” He grins.

“No.” I lie. “Because it’s dangerous at night.”

“It’s Iwatobi. The most dangerous thing out there comes in the form of blond hair and a devilish grin.” I almost laugh at his remark.

“True…now hurry up and pick a game.”

***

After a few hours of playing _New Super Mario Bros_ later, everything feels a little hazy, and I think I just threw a fire ball at Makoto on the game.

I think Makoto decides to turn the game off when I accidentally jump into the abyss for the third time and he gets the message that I could probably fall asleep this instant.

“Hey…Haru?” He asks, but his voice is so quiet and solemn. I try to read his expression, his droopy eyes look cloudy and his lips are the tiniest bit parted.

“Yeah?” I mimic with a voice just as quiet, just as delicate, because if I’m any louder, he might just slip away again.

“I…I should probably tell you what happened over the past three years.” Makoto begins, breaking our eye contact.

“No need.” I stop him.

“But you deserve to know.”

“Not tonight.”

“But.”

“No.”

“Haru I-.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Please.”

“Thank you.”

“ _Haru._ ”

“Makoto.”

“ _Fine_.” He says through gritted teeth, then breaking out into one of his famous grins, though it looks a little gloomy.

“Let’s forget about all that stuff tonight.”

“Y-yeah.” His smile grows.

We eventually decide on watching a movie. While Makoto channel surfs I switch the light off and crank the fan up, before joining him in my bed. When Makoto and I used to have sleepovers, we’d usually share a bed, not really caring what other people thought. If anything, sharing was a lot easier than sleeping separately because it meant we could talk to each other a lot easier, instead of trying to talk as quietly as possible so we didn’t wake up whoever was sleeping in the next room.

I get under the thin blanket and position the pillows so that I’m as comfortable as possible, and I watch the TV flick between channels. It eventually lands on what looks like _The Avengers_ , not that I’m paying attention to it. He leaves it on that channel as he rests his head on the headboard, the light from the television shining on his face and eyes. “Haru.” He says fondly. He looks at me smiles. “Thank you.”

I don’t say anything back, I don’t have to. I simply return the grin, albeit faint, and Makoto goes back to the television. I feel my eyes flutter close, the noise from the movie slowly fading away…

_“Haru.”_

_“Thank you.”_

I think I fall asleep with the thought of Makoto.

 ***

**Makoto**

When the credits roll, I check to see if Haru is still awake. He isn’t, which isn’t surprising since he was always the first to fall asleep.

Ever since he picked me up from the airport, I haven’t seemed to be able to get over how _pretty_ he’s gotten: his smooth porcelain skin and his fluttering eyelashes; not to mention his deep voice and captive glance. Without giving it second thought, I push his silken hair out of Haru’s face and I lie down next to him, taking in his scent of sand and washing powder within his bedsheets. Then, I pray to whatever God is out there that things stay like this between us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo right now I'm still trying to build things up between Haru and Makoto, meaning that there's no intense fluff yet I'm afraid.  
> Anyway, I'm trying to see how long I can go with switching POVs until I officially go crazy, so please tell me if the character's don't really seem believable, constructive criticism is highly appreciated.  
> Also I named this chapter after one of Coldplay's songs, Magic and I thought that conveyed how Haru feels in this chapter pretty well idk.  
> By the way, I have a Tumblr as well if anyone wants to talk about MakoHaru ffor like 3 hours, it called exploringthenight.  
> Once again, thank you to everyone who reads this!!

**Author's Note:**

> Well if you've made it this far then congratulations! Yeah this is my first multi-chapter fic and my first Free! fic so I'm sorry if this is all over the place. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading, let's see how far I can take this fic!!


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